Protéger
by delectibal
Summary: Will is very protective of Hannibal. Set after the good doctor is attacked by Tobias Budge.


Will was very protective of Hannibal's office; it held a lot of firsts for the two of them. He and Hannibal had their first real conversation there, had realized their feelings for one another there, had shared their first kiss there, and Will, who had always considered himself a vanilla kind of guy, had made the first move in initiating a steamy, romantic interlude on top of the doctor's desk. And in his chair, and on the ladder to the bookshelves … Thoughts of those times would cause blood to rush to his cheeks in deceptively shy, fond remembrance.

Will was very protective of that space, that safe, cool area that housed his favorite psychiatrist. So when Jack Crawford came to get him from the music store and told him that Tobias Budge had escaped and made an attempt on Hannibal's life, his universe felt as if it had shattered into nothing but blood-soaked pieces of glass. He said nothing through clenched teeth on the drive over, and when he saw the ransacked office and a beaten and bloody Hannibal reclining in his chair, he couldn't stop the raging beast inside of him that surged forth, wailing for revenge. The sight of Tobias on the floor with his head bashed in was a start.

"Get out," he said, voice firm. "All of you, get out."

Jack was quick to usher his team from the room. It wasn't that he really believed that there was much more to the story, that his profiler needed the time to empathize, but Will rarely demanded anything. If he wanted to have a moment, he could very well have it. Tobias was dead, and the fact that the murderer was off the streets filled him with a grim joy, This case was as good as closed.

As soon as the door shut, muting their little world, Will had thrown himself over the desk and into a kneeling position in front of Hannibal. "Hannibal … _mon beau cerf_, are you all right?"

His flaxen-haired partner, so normally contained, looked a little shaken up. He could hardly blame him.

"I was afraid you were dead," Hannibal answered in a choked voice. He let out a breath then, one that seemed to slump his whole body in relief. His darling, his little _précieux mangouste_, had been strong, and he was alive.

Will clasped one of Hannibal's hands in his own, eyes beseeching. "He got away from me at the music shop, I'm so sorry … I had no idea he'd come to you."

Hannibal shifted in his chair, and Will saw the slow seep of blood from the man's temple and from his nose. He also saw that those weren't the only places decorated with crimson.

"Oh my God, you've been stabbed …"

Hannibal shook his head, smiled. He indicated his leg and then the two other bodies in the room with a slow, elegant sweep of his free hand. "I'm fine. Better than the alternative, as you can see."

"What happened here?" From the look in his eyes, it was obvious Will wasn't in the mood for the story his partner told the police. Sometimes they flirted with those half-truths, pretended that they were back in that confusing, blissful time when the line between hunter and hunted was blurred, secret. Tonight, though, there would be nothing left under the veil of uncertainty. What subtlety remained between them was pushed aside, made way for the cold, naked truth that lay in its place.

"Franklin, another patient of mine … I believe he was in love with Tobias. When Tobias didn't return his feelings, he became obsessed with me. Attracted to a certain personality type, I suppose." Hannibal tried to laugh, but ended up wincing instead. Ribs must be bruised at the very least. Will's mouth hardened into a thin line.

"It turned out that Tobias knew who I was … He was using Franklin to get to me. He came here for a confrontation during my session with Franklin, and …" Hannibal slowly rolled his eyes to the side, affirming his connection to the crime scene. "The rest of it played out in a manner with which you are familiar."

Will sighed, his grip moving to both of Hannibal's hands and tightening. "Did you kill Franklin too, or just Tobias?"

"I killed Franklin first."

"He was obsessed with you?"

Hannibal nodded.

"He deserved it," Will responded with a snarl, the sound spraying out into the blood-soaked air.

Almost immediately, Hannibal had ripped his hands from Will's and tangled them in the dark chocolate mess of the man's hair, jerking him up and forcing their lips together. Will could taste the blood on Hannibal's teeth, and he moaned, tongue swiping clean the crimson stained pearls. He attempted to force his way onto the psychiatrist's lap, but a hiss of pain broke their kiss and sent the world, with all its closed doors and waiting strangers, crashing back.

"I'm so sorry, _mon beau cerf_, _désolé_," Will whispered, pressing his mouth to Hannibal's temple. "I forgot about your leg. We need to get you some medical attention."

Hannibal wrapped an arm around his partner's waist from his seated position, leaning his flaxen head gently against the man's stomach. "I know, Will … but just let me have a moment here with you."

Unbeknownst to the two, a woman opened the door with the utmost care not to make a sound and slipped her way from the hallway into the hushed room. Beverly Katz had a job to do, curiosity to fulfill, and no one, not Will Graham or even Jack Crawford, could get in the way of that.

Will was her friend, but Beverly was tired of Jack thinking that he was the only one around there that could figure things out. She wanted to get onto Crawford's radar just as badly as Will wanted off of it, and if it meant intruding on to a crime scene while Will was busy, that would just have to be an unfortunate circumstance for the man. She was always the first one in, and nothing had changed in that respect, not before Will came and began to ask for alone time, not ever.

The dark-haired woman was roused out of her determination, however, at seeing her friend and the good doctor tangled up in each other. Will was bent at the waist, mouth against Hannibal's ear as he said something low in his throat. Hannibal was tucked against the man, eyes closed and lips holding a small, content smile. The sight of their fingers interlaced, the body language, the way they looked at each other—there was no question as to what was going on between them.

Beverly bit back the gasp wanting to be released the moment she walked in, trading her shocked expression for a wide grin. She quickly backed out of the room and shut the door, only letting out a breath when she was safely out of earshot. Let the two of them be; her crime scene could wait.

Will nuzzled Hannibal's neck, moving up to tug playfully at the man's earlobe with his teeth. His lover smelt of sweat and the suffering of others: a scent he hadn't realized he'd come to adore. "Tobias may have known you were the Ripper," he murmured to Hannibal, "but he _severely_ underestimated you, darling."

* * *

It had been a few days since Hannibal was attacked, and the psychiatrist still wasn't seeing any patients—it had less to do with his fear of taking them on again after a traumatic experience and more to do with his injured leg keeping him mostly confined to his luxurious bedroom. Will played the part of a dutiful partner, leaving only to attend to his classes and take care of his dogs. He'd made the fateful mistake of bringing Winston along one day, though, and after the canine had romped around the bed and violated Hannibal with slobbery kisses, they decided that Will's pets were better suited back in Wolf Trap. The trauma of the visiting dog, combined with constant bed rest and the unspeakable horrors of Will's cooking was making the flaxen-haired man a little testy, to speak lightly of it. Therefore it was with steely resolve that Will set about helping his lover get some relief.

" … Hannibal?"

Dr. Lecter, who had been propped up against plush satin pillows with one of the numerous tomes Will had brought from the office, quirked an eyebrow at the man standing in the doorway. He closed his book and set it aside, one hand coming up to pull off his reading glasses. Will, who had been nervous about his plan from the beginning and in fact wavering in embarrassment that vary moment, felt a surge of lust and courage at the action. Hannibal, _his Hannibal_, in all of his silk pajama-clad glory, looked devastatingly sexy in the crisp light of the afternoon.

"Shouldn't you be at work, moulding young minds?" the flaxen-haired psychiatrist crooned, cleverly avoiding mentioning the fact that Will was standing there in nothing but one of his dress shirts.

"I told Jack that I was feeling unstable today," Will said with a smirk, dragging his feet as he approached the bed in a teasingly slow manner. "He suggested I come and see you."

"I see," hummed the other man, reaching out to run slender fingers down Will's arm and over the fabric that swallowed even his hands. "I must say, you look quite fetching in my clothes."

"Oh?" Will cooed innocently, shifting his hips and dragging his fingertips over the buttons of the shirt. The movement caused something slick to trickle down his leg, and Hannibal's eyes widened, gaze following the bead of moisture hungrily.

It wasn't very often Will could surprise his partner, and so he relished the moment, guiding Hannibal's hand between his legs with a shy smile. The other man stiffened as his fingers came into contact with familiar wetness. That scent that had been nagging at him since Will had come through the door … It was artificial, strawberry-flavored … The doctor swallowed with some difficulty as he realized it was lubricant.

"I know we haven't been able to be very … intimate … lately," Will was saying through the swirling fog of Hannibal's sudden, bestial desire, "but I'm here now, and … and I've already opened myself up for you, baby … Let me do the work."

He'd apparently shocked the normally eloquent man into silence, because Hannibal said nothing, even as he cupped the backs of Will's thighs and hauled the man into bed with him with the strength lurking beneath his debonair façade. There was a short grunt of pain as Will straddled Hannibal's lap, some struggling as fabric was pushed aside and they got into position, but from then on it was smooth and hot and sweet. The slow pull and burn was something a little different from their normal rhythm, but as Will rocked against Hannibal, as he tossed his hair back, curls bouncing like his hips, as their groans filled the quiet air of the bedroom, he found he didn't particularly mind it like this.

When release came, it came gently, with shaking breaths and shakier limbs. Will let out a soft whimper in answer to Hannibal's low purr, falling slack against the man's chest. They stayed like that, lost in time, until the sun's rays faded from sight. Will was brought from his drowsy state only by the sound of their stomachs growling.

"I'll go make us some dinner, darling …" Wincing, the slick sound of bodies disconnecting.

"No." Hannibal was firm, tried to follow his partner from the bed even as Will pushed back against his shoulders.

"You're wounded," Mr. Graham chastised, placing a kiss on his lover's forehead. "I've taken care of you these past few days, so what's a few more? I want you fully healed, and that means none of those acrobatics you call cooking." He grinned.

Hannibal returned the smile, pulling Will close by the waist and kissing him soundly. Their mouths pulled apart with a soft pop, the flaxen-haired psychiatrist keeping his lips a hair's breadth from the other man's. "As much as I love how much you're trying, I think it would be best for both of us if I got back into the kitchen. Your efforts are appreciated, darling, believe me, but …"

He didn't have to go on. They both knew that Hannibal's abundant supply of politeness was running dangerously low. So, with a light chuckle, Will allowed the doctor up from the bed. They made their way to the kitchen, slowly, gingerly, both drunkenly soaked in the delicious aftertaste of their afternoon.


End file.
